


Things Said Aloud

by missema



Series: Sacraments [8]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 00:54:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4767443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missema/pseuds/missema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Troy never told his parents about Elle, at least nothing more than a mere mention that he was 'seeing someone'. The dust has begun to settle in Stilwater since the boat explosion, and she's still not awake. Missing her more than ever, Troy visits his parents to get away from it all.  Post SR1</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Said Aloud

Troy pulled into the driveway of his parents house and cut the engine, resting his head on the steering wheel. Beside him on the empty passenger seat his phone vibrated for the umpteenth time during his journey and he didn't spare it a glance. He needed peace for more than the time it took him to drive away from Stilwater. God, he felt better just being away from the place, but he knew it was only a temporary balm. Running wasn't something Troy did. This was just a break to gain some perspective.

When he did look up, he was comforted by the sight of the slightly overgrown garden outside the small house. Troy reached for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket but drew back after he considered it. His mom hated when he smelled like smoke, and he'd gone half the drive there without one. A little longer wouldn't kill him.

He felt grim, like the stereotypical hard-boiled detective, relying too heavily on his coffee and cigarettes to get him through each day. But that stereotype had its roots somewhere near the truth - he didn't know of anyone who did investigations that didn't at least partake of the occasional cigarette save for internal affairs - they were all straight as an arrow. At least, that's how they liked to appear to the rest of the force.

Troy got out of the car and started up the path towards his parent's house. He liked it here, but wasn't around much. He hadn't grown up in the house, but his parents bought it after he got accepted into Stilwater University and wanted to be closer to him. By that time, his father had retired but Troy's sisters were young enough that they could benefit from staying in one place.

He wanted to talk to his dad, to tell him about, well, everything. During a phone call a couple of months back he let it slip that he was seeing someone, but never mentioned Elle by name. To their credit, his parents didn't pry too much, though it had been ages since he'd told them he was doing more than casual dating. Work was always the excuse, and it was true, for the most part.

Using his key to open the door, he looked past the entry to see the living room empty and then called out. "Mom! Pop! It's me, Troy. Anyone home?"

"In the office, honey," his mom called out to him.

Troy moved through the small house to a tiny bedroom at the back that had been converted into an office. A crate of assorted kids toys sat in one corner and in another, his mother was sitting behind a computer. She was playing some kind of game, and Troy smiled at the back of her head. His mom had always loved video games, they shared that. Sometimes they played together when he visited, though he'd resisted the pull of online gaming so far. He waited for a moment, then she typed a few words, took off her headset and got up to hug him.

"Hi, baby. What brings you here?" his mom asked as she hugged him. She felt small in his arms, but she didn't look any different.

"I had some time off. Finally wrapped up that big case where I've been undercover on for a while, so they gave me a promotion and some time off," Troy said. His mom sat back in her chair, but didn't don her headset or turn back to the screen.

"Oh that's wonderful to hear! We been praying for you, Troy, hoping that you'd come to no harm. I'm so glad you're done with it and justly rewarded." His mom beamed at him. "So it's sergeant now?"

"Actually, it's lieutenant," Troy said. He didn't know why, but that jump in rank always made him feel more uneasy than proud. Whenever he spoke of it, it sounded like false modesty to his own ears, but really he just didn't know what to make of it. "They need more trustworthy people up top, so I was bumped up even more," he explained.

"Even better! Lt. Troy Bradshaw. Yep, it sounds right. You've beyond proved your loyalty and bravery. We should celebrate tonight then, if you're staying for dinner," his mom said, giving him a look that clearly told him that if he didn't stay for dinner, his parents would make the drive to Stilwater to take him out.

He laughed, soothed just by being in her presence. "I can stay for dinner. Where's Pop?" he asked. During their whole conversation, he hadn't even heard his father around the house.

"Outside already. He was thinking about grilling this morning. Tell him you're staying and he will. There's steaks in the freezer and hot dogs, but if he wants hamburger he's going to have to make it himself. My guild is doing a raid."

Troy laughed again, this time louder as he left his mom's office. She did do work in there, in fact most of the time she was working, but apparently she gamed in there as well. At least she had a comfortable chair. His dad was in the backyard, just as his mom had said.

He and his old man didn't actually have much in common in the looks department. Troy looked very much like his mother, with her hair color, nose and eyes. But he was built like his father, broad across the shoulders, put on muscle and weight easily and they were of a similar height. His father was darker, tanned easily and had thick hair that held only a hint of grey near the temples. Troy's mom liked to talk gushingly about how his dad resembled Rock Hudson in his youth. The senior Bradshaw grinned at his son from where he sat in a lawn chair.

"Thought you'd be by sooner," he said, and pointed towards the kitchen. "Beer's in there, if you're staying."

"Hey Pop. I'm staying, at least for dinner. Mom said you'd grill."

"I can if you take the steaks and dogs out of the freezer while you're in there."

He nodded and headed back into the kitchen. The meat was in the freezer, steaks marinating in a plastic bag of not quite frozen liquid that looked suspiciously like salad dressing. All of it got put into a bath of cold water to defrost. It was early afternoon, so they'd be defrosted and ready to cook by dinnertime. When Troy came back outside carrying two cans of beer, he passed one to his father. His dad opened it and took a quick swig and looked over at Troy, obviously waiting for him to speak. When he wasn't forthcoming, his dad took up the slack.

"Maybe it's just me, but you don't look like you just wrapped up a major case. Shouldn't you be out celebrating with your mysterious girlfriend?"

At that small mention of Elle, Troy felt tears prickle at his eyes. He didn't want to cry, not now. Not that his father would mind, but because Troy wasn't sure that if he let himself start he'd be able to stop. At his parents house, where he was away from all eyes save those of the people that loved him, he might really break down. Troy almost wanted to, but he'd never done it before. Then again, he hadn't ever personally lost so much.

That morning he'd left Stilwater, Troy had paid Elle another short visit. The sun had been shining and warm when he entered the hospital, but he couldn't shake the chill he felt. It was looking less and less likely that she would wake up. They were going to move her to the prison soon, and he wouldn't be able to just stop in whenever. She'd been the same, burns healing but her comatose state unchanged. April had been in to braid her hair recently, he could tell by the neatness of the cornrows that lay unmoving against her pillow. Elle still looked bad, more bandages than revealed skin, but he'd kissed her goodbye anyway.

While he swam overwhelmed in his own memories, he'd looked away from his dad, across the lawn at nothing. His dad liked being outside, and the yard was part of his domain. It stretched to a wooden fence that was barely visible for all the trees and flowers that were in front of it. Troy wasn't paying attention to the excellent landscaping, his thoughts with Elle. When he shook out of it and turned back, his father was frowning at him. The urge to shed tears had passed and Troy just felt tired. He took another drink of his beer.

"You guys broke up?" his father ventured again, deeply concerned by the melancholy that had come over his son at the mention of the girlfriend.

"No, Pop. We're still together," Troy said. At least, he thought they were. "I gave her a key to my place and everything. It's just that she, she's in the hospital."

His father leaned forward, the lines of concern on his face deepened. "Is she okay?"

Troy shook his head. His father spoke again, his voice quiet. "Was she a cop too? Undercover, like you?"

At that, Troy gave a soft, strangled laugh. "No, she was part of the investigation. But she's smart, you know? Figured out I was a cop and was going to help. Then everything went to hell."

His dad reached over and very gently put a hand cold from holding his drink on Troy's shoulder. "It's not your fault, Troy. Whatever happened, it's not your fault."

When Troy didn't answer, his dad got up and gave him a minute to pull himself together. He made some noises about checking on the food for dinner and then vanished into the house for several minutes. Troy leaned back in his lawn chair and closed his eyes until he heard his father come back out of the house and hand him another drink. This one wasn't a beer, but a plastic cup of ice water.

"I asked your mom to go get some of those burger patties from the store, and stuff for a salad. Probably will come back with a cake too, you know how she is. She'll be out of the house for at least an hour once she finally goes. She was going on about finishing up on her game, but I have no idea what she was talking about. Something about the Horde this and the Alliance that. I don't know. Have a smoke if you want."

Troy shook his head. He didn't know either. The terms almost sounded familiar, but he really wasn't in the mood to search his mind for where he might have heard them. Maybe Dex. He sighed at the thought, and pulled his pack and lighter from his pocket. He inhaled gratefully, nicotine calming his worked up system. Normally Troy didn't smoke at his parents house, but this time he didn't bother to pretend like he didn't want to when his father asked.

They talked of nothing in particular for a few minutes, his father telling him about a few things going on in the neighborhood, how one of his cousins was fairing doing now that she'd moved to Paris. The reality of it was much less romantic than she'd hoped, but Troy couldn't help but be proud of her for trying. They kept it up until they heard his mother yell out of the window that she was leaving, and his father blew her a kiss.

"Alright, Troy. I know you probably don't want or can't talk about some of this, but you've got to get it out. Some wounds have to be drained to heal, some things need to be said aloud," his father said, repeating the oft quoted advice he'd given him many times growing up. It almost made Troy smile.

Troy took a deep breath and looked up at his father. He looked at the kind, weathered face that was so familiar to him and so different from his own. Later, Troy's mom would hear everything he hadn't been able to tell her, because facing both of his parents, with their questions and concerns would have been too much. His father was there, standing nearby with his own glass of ice water, hovering over the grill so he wouldn't seem too pushy.

"When I met her, she was caught in between some gang violence. She'd been shot, but it was just a graze," Troy said, starting at the very beginning. He would gloss over some of it, like how he'd readily given into her touch in that filthy hovel because he'd been so lonely and tired of being undercover or too much of the details of his mission.

To his surprise, his dad laughed. "You met this lady love of yours because she got shot? What did you do?"

"I shot them before they could fire again, we made sure she was okay." Troy looked up at her dad and gave him a small smile. "Her name is Elle."

"What's she like?"

"Tall, about as tall as me. Has the most beautiful long legs," he started to say more but then remembered he was talking to his dad. Troy coughed to cover his awkwardness. "She's black, pretty thin and..." he trailed off, unsure what else to say that described her. "I don't know, fluent in sign language. Studied early elementary education," he said, thinking about that last night he spent with her before, before everything. "She's quiet, hardworking, funny."

"Sounds like you really care for her."

"I do. Anyway, we met that night, and I'd already been undercover for a while. Then she showed up again after she recovered. We didn't talk a lot at first, she's pretty quiet like I said, but then we spent some time together."

His dad wasn't looking at him, but the older man smiled as he lit the fire. It caught on the charcoals immediately and the chemical smell of lighter fluid burned hotly through the air. Troy watched the flames for a moment. He didn't feel better, not completely unburdened or free, but not quite so miserable. Maybe it was the weight of dread that had released him, now that he'd started telling his dad.

"Let me go get the meat for you," Troy offered, but his dad waved the suggestion down.

"Not yet. It's probably still frozen and I have to get this fire under control. Keep talking about your girl, Elle."

So he did, and by the time Troy's mom got back from the store (with a sheet cake that said CONGRATULATIONS LT TROY on it in blue icing) he was smiling again. His father had a gentle way of prodding the conversation around topics that made Troy pause or falter, and asked enough innocuous questions about Elle that neither one got too mired in the details of the Saints.

When Troy went to get the get the cake knife his mother had conveniently left in the kitchen, she leaned toward her husband and whispered. "Did you get him to talk?"

"Yup. He's in love, and he's got it bad," was the hushed reply as the sliding glass door opened again. "Do _not_ ask him about it. I'll tell you later."

His mother nodded, her smile not slipping as Troy approached where they sat around the cedar picnic table. The wind picked up her first melodic note of "For He's A Jolly Good Fellow" and the next door neighbors looked over the fence just in time to see Troy being serenaded by both of his parents. It was the first time he felt like he'd earned his promotion to lieutenant.


End file.
